


Domestic Draco: Daddy Distress

by ravenslight



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, HP: EWE, I tried to be funny but don't think it worked lol, Sick house elf, domestic Draco, inspired by weird things from my childhood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 02:08:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14154369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenslight/pseuds/ravenslight
Summary: Domestic Dramione: Daddy!Draco is left at home with the baby for the first time and the house elf nanny has the flu. Written for Strictly Dramione's 2018 Prank Fest.





	Domestic Draco: Daddy Distress

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me apologize in advance for how strange this might be. Lol I tried to be funny, but I found that I'm not very good at writing humor if I try to. Much of this is inspired by the strange things that baby me found funny and which the children I work with tend to laugh at. This is unbeta'd, so any errors are my own.

Used tissues littered the floor around the bassinet in a baby’s room. A house elf clad in a bright pink tutu and polka-dotted jumper leaned over a crib, hushing a wailing blond baby between periodic trumpets of her long, pointed nose. A man, undoubtedly the baby’s father judging by the platinum locks the two shared, paced the room, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Mimsy, please do something! I’ve tried everything to get him to stop crying, but nothing is working,” the blond pleaded.

“Mimsy tries, Mister Draco.” A loud trumpet interrupted her sentence. “Mister Scorpy bad mad.” Her big blue eyes are watery, though with tears of frustration or irritation from her constant nose blowing, Draco couldn’t tell. Either way, both Draco and the little house elf were near their wit's end with the wailing child in front of them.

Hermione had promised that she’d only be gone for the evening—an important ministry dinner, she’d said. She couldn’t miss it, and it had been sprung on her last minute. Their usual sitter wasn’t available, and Victoire had a date with her new mystery beau. Two hours before Hermione was due to leave by Floo, they’d agreed that Draco would stay home with the baby.

Or, as Hermione would be likely to remind him, she’d won when she’d walked out of their shared bedroom in a Slytherin green bustier and lace panties and promised Draco anything he wanted if he just stayed home with Scorpius.

Draco wasn’t always easy to please, but he’d be damned if he turned down his curly-haired witch when she was decked out in his house colors.

He’d nodded mutely, and Hermione had grinned her victory, tweaking his nose and pecking his cheek as she sashayed back into their bedroom to put on her dinner-appropriate robes over the lingerie that had effectively won the argument. The final nail in the coffin had been when she’d walked by and lifted the hem so he could see the silver garter that held up her deep green stockings.

The woman was much more Slytherin than she would ever admit to, and it brought him to his knees.

So that was how he’d ended up in the middle of a war-scene, though the wailing of his son replaced the shouted spells and the flashing lights of his mobile replaced the green and red splashes of wand fire.

Draco looked at the small clock in the corner of the room. Courtesy of Molly Weasley, it was just like the one that Draco now knew stood in the Weasley living room. However, this one held a twist of his own creation, mostly to allow him to avoid the wrath of his wife. This clock told the viewer both where each member of the family was and what they were feeling. Hermione’s little arrow—because Draco _refused_ to have spoons. They were _ghastly_ —was wavering between content and anxious.

He knew that she didn’t like leaving Scorpius with Draco and a sick house elf, but he knew that her job was important. More than important, since she made the majority of the money in the family.

Draco barely had a chance to glance at Scorpius’ arrow—bright, angry red—when another piercing wail rent the air. He crossed the room to the crib and nudged the sagging house elf aside.

“Go, Mimsy. I’ll figure something out.”

The house elf looked up at him, tears spilling over her eyes. “R-really, Misters Draco? But Mimsy has times. Mimsy cans— _achoo!_ ” The small elf’s eyes turned as big as saucers and focused on the very front of his very new, very _expensive_ shirt. Following her eyes, Draco focused on the massive green bogey resting snugly below his third button, mercifully just below the open vee.

Scorpius’ wailing had stopped following the wee elf’s sneeze. In its place, small hiccupping giggles issued from the small child’s mouth. _Thank Merlin for small miracles, at least,_ Draco thought wryly.

Horrified, the little elf met his eyes once more, lips quivering. “Mimsy is so sorry, Mister Draco.”

Closing his eyes, he sighed through his nose. “I’ve got him, Mimsy. You—just go. Get some rest.”

Nodding, the little elf trumpeted into her tissue once more and disapparated out of the room with a loud _crack._

Once the small elf had left the room, Draco turned back to the giggling boy in front of him. Despite himself, he cracked his first smile since his witch had left for her bloody work dinner.

“Oh, you find that funny, do you?” Draco arched his perfect brow at the little boy in front of him who was currently shoving fistfuls of his blanket into his mouth with one hand and gripping a stuffed dragon in the other.

The giggles intensified, and the little boy mumbled something around his fist.

Amused, Draco leaned into the crib a little further and began tickling his mini-me. “I didn’t hear that. I’m afraid you’ll have to tell me again,” he chuckled into the air around him.

Scorpius leaned back to get away from his father’s tickling, the blanket falling free of his mouth as the delighted laughter fell from his rosy cheeks. With one large inhale, the boy shouted, “Daddy, BOGEY!” and dissolved into hysterical laughter again.

Draco, enjoying his nanny duties much more with a giggling child, stopped his tickling to allow the boy a chance to breathe. Attempting to arrange his face into a serious expression, he looked Scorpius in the eye. “It’s not nice to laugh when gross things happen to your Daddy.” His scolding fell on deaf ears, as his shirt stuck to the top of the crib when he went to move back.

With a loud squelching noise, his shirt parted from the crib, leaving half of the giant booger behind. Of course, this set Scorpius off on a fresh set of giggles as Draco searched his pockets for his wand. Finally locating it tucked into the depths of his right pocket, he extracted the hawthorn wand from his pocket and cast a silent Scourgify on both his shirt and the bars of his son’s cribs.

As the boy’s giggles subsided, Draco reached in and lifted the small boy in his arms. Not one to be deterred, Scorpius poked around at Draco’s shirt, a small grin playing on the boy’s face. “Bogey?” he questioned, pouting up at Draco.

Draco grimaced. “Nope, no more bogey. He had to go bye-bye. He missed his family.”

He nearly kicked himself when his comment sent his son on a fresh round of crying. “Bogey sad, Daddy!” Fresh tears rolled down the little boy’s cheeks, catching in his curly blond locks. His lips quivered with the wails Draco had no doubt were imminent.

He quickly backtracked. “No! It’s okay! Bogey went to back to his family. It’s okay now!” Scorpius didn’t look convinced. _Am I really trying to console my kid over a booger?_ Draco thought to himself. Being a father was never boring, but he never expected to console his kid over a booger.

However, his pleading must have worked because Scorpius peered up at him between his lashes. “You pwomise?”

Draco sighed but lifted his free hand up level with Scorpius. “I _pinky_ promise, Scorp. You can’t take those back.”

Satisfied, the little boy wrapped his pinky around his father’s and hiccoughed one last time. Beaming, he lifted the little stuff dragon up with his other hand and said, “Dragon Bogey!”

Draco refrained from sighing in exasperation and muttered, “I always called him Puff, but I guess you can call him Bogey,” as he set the boy down on the ground. Scorpius proceeded to waddle around his room, flapping Puff-now-Bogey up and down and making growling noises in his throat.

 

* * *

 

When Hermione had finally gotten home that evening, he’d made sure to take advantage of her promise to him. Anything he wanted had turned into several things, and Hermione’s bustier lay in tatters on the floor next to his bed. Draco was lounging against the pillows with a sated grin while Hermione brushed her teeth.

“I take it tonight went alright, then?” Hermione asked from the doorway of the loo, toothbrush in hand.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Define alright.” Hermione quirked her eyebrow up at him. “Let’s just say it began with screaming and ended with Scorp’s dragon getting a new nickname. Getting him down for bed was a feat in and of itself.”

Hermione disappeared back into the bathroom for a few moments before she emerged, windlessly shutting off the lights. She’d thrown on one of the short floral nightgowns Draco loved and flopped into bed next to him.

“Well, I appreciate you staying home with him tonight, no matter how trying it was.” She rained kisses on his cheek. “And you certainly enjoyed your reward.”

He chuckled and turned to seek out her lips. “I always enjoy rewards when you’re involved.”

Draco was just beginning to deepen the kiss once more when the door to their bedroom crashed open, and Scorpius flew into the room, dragon in tow. As Hermione and Draco separated, Scorpius launched himself between them, happily flying the plush toy in front of him.

Hermione peered down at the little boy, trying to hide a grin, and asked, “Scorpius, aren’t you supposed to be in bed?”

Scorpius thrust the dragon upright and squealed, “Mommy, Bogey miss Daddy!” and proceeded to shove the stuffed toy in his father’s face.

Hermione dissolved into giggles, barely choking out, “Bogey?”

Draco blushed bright red to the roots of his hair and pulled Scorpius into a tight hug. He ignored the little boy’s protests and mumbled, “It’s a long story.”


End file.
